


Raising Marco

by silverwolf_fox



Category: One Piece
Genre: Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit, Canon timelines mean nothing, Family Bonding, Fluff, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tiny bits of Angst, bird traits, but not a lot, collection of oneshots, young!Marco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:34:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 10,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22395601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverwolf_fox/pseuds/silverwolf_fox
Summary: A collection of oneshots detailing both the wonder and horror of a pirate crew trying to raise a young Marco as he learns the ins-and-outs of his phoenix power.
Relationships: Fuschichou Marco | Phoenix Marco & Whitebeard Pirates, Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco & Shirohige | Whitebeard | Edward Newgate
Comments: 89
Kudos: 358





	1. Catching a Caged Bird

**Author's Note:**

> Born from the devious minds of my discord friends. This'll be a collection of what we've imagined Marco's childhood to be like with the Whitebeard Pirates (both the good and the bad).

A sudden rocking of the ship sent the young boy crashing sideways into the bars that surrounded him. It was hard to hear anything this far below deck, but he could make out the loud booms of canon fire each time before the ship was sent tilting again. The piles of treasure filling the room shook and toppled over, golden pieces clanged against each other while coins clattered and rolled across the wooden floor.

The boy reached an arm through the bars of his cage but failed to touch any of them. He puffed out his cheeks in a huff and pressed his face against the bars. It was for the best. He’d be in trouble if they found him messing with the treasure again.

The noises from above grew louder until they abruptly fell silent. He looked upwards as if that would allow him to see through the ceiling and know what was happening. Not that it mattered too much, as it wasn’t like things could get worse for him. It seemed like forever before anything happened, and he wasted the time idly flicking the bars of the cage. It wasn’t until he heard someone thumping nearby that he stopped and sat up, curious about who it would be.

He could hear them opening doors, grumbling and cursing when they weren’t the treasure room, which told him two very important things: it wasn’t a member of the crew that took him and they were on their way to him.

Anticipation filled the boy but not worry. What’s the worst they could do? Move his cage somewhere else? He stifled a snort at his poor sense of humor and instead listened as the stranger attempted to open the treasure room door, wondering what they’d do once they discovered it was locked. Maybe they’d try to find the key that the captain kept on him at all times or they could try picking the lock or—

The door crashed in, and an abnormally large foot was pulled back. Then the largest man he’d ever seen ducked his way through the too small door. The man grinned - it looked even wider with the upward curve of his white mustache - and laughed a deep, “Gurarara!” calling out to unseen crewmates that he’d finally found the treasure.

Then their eyes met, and the boy wanted to snicker at the utterly dumbfounded expression that took over the man’s face. In all his excitement to find the defeated crew’s treasure, it obviously never crossed his mind that he’d also find a bored looking child sitting cross legged inside a gilded birdcage.

Ruffling a hand through his short golden curls, the boy said, “Yoi.”

Snapped out of his shock, the man stepped further into the room. “This is unexpected. What are you doing here?”

A vague shrug was offered as an answer. If he didn’t know, then the boy certainly wasn’t going to tell him.

The man grunted, but it sounded amused. His massive hands reached towards the cage, and the boy couldn’t stop himself from flinching back to press against the farthest side. It didn’t give the man any pause, and with nothing more but the strength of his fingers, bent the bars until they snapped apart.

“What’s your name, boy?” the man asked, watching him as he tentatively crawled out of the cage.

It’d been a long time since anyone bothered to ask. The boy stared at the large man in contemplation but eventually answered, “Marco.”

“Marco,” the man repeated. Suddenly, he looked behind him and grinned. “Ah, Jozu, perfect timing. Gather up some of the others and start moving this treasure. I need to show my new son his new home.”

Huh?

A hand suddenly wrapped around Marco, but it held him gently, just firm enough that he couldn’t wriggle free.

“Hey, what are you doing?” he snapped. He pounded at the man’s fist as he was carried out of the room, passing by another huge person that had to be the Jozu the man talked to before.

Jozu took one look at the struggling boy and only said, “Whatever you say, Pops.”

“Pops” smiled at Marco. “I’m Whitebeard, your new captain.”


	2. The Morning Newspaper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whitebeard discovers his newest son is lacking a very important life skill and aims to help.

Though he had as little choice in joining the Whitebeards as he’d had with anything else in his life, Marco admitted that it was better than his previous situation. He refused to explain why he’d been locked up in the treasure room in the first place but was still allowed free reign of the massive ship that sailed the Whitebeard Pirates.

The salty sea air felt freeing against his face as he stepped outside onto the main deck one morning. Captain Whitebeard was already seated in the large chair that had been built into the deck for him, and a large bird was perched on one of the arm rests. Curious, Marco quietly approached.

His hope to avoid detection was squashed when the captain glanced his way. “Good morning, Marco,” he greeted with a knowing tone. Marco huffed but forewent his ineffective stealth as he moved to stand by Whitebeard’s feet.

“What’s with the bird?” he asked, eyeing the strange carry bag and hat that the gull wore. It stared at the captain impatiently until it was finally given a few berries, and it gave over an oversized bundle of paper before flying off.

“It’s a news coo delivering this morning’s newspaper,” Whitebeard finally explained. He opened the paper, and Marco could see the writing and pictures spread across the surface. Ever curious, the young boy climbed up his captain’s pants leg and plopped down in his lap.

His eyes briefly scanned the words before he asked, “What’s it say?”

Whitebeard looked down at his newest, youngest crewmember with a sad expression. He felt even worse knowing that he couldn’t muster any surprise that the child he found locked in a birdcage didn’t know how to read, but he put on a smile and read aloud. His finger pointed to each word as he read them.

Learning brought Marco out of the wariness he’d so far treated the crew with, eyes sparkling as he followed along. He had no qualms stopping Whitebeard mid sentence to ask about a word he didn’t understand or for more details explaining what the newspaper was talking about and why it was important.

Every morning Whitebeard would see him and say, “Marco, come read with me,” and the boy would quickly climb into his lap or sometimes perch on his shoulder. It amazed Whitebeard how quickly Marco began to pick up patterns and recognize familiar words, even mouthing them as they appeared. After they finished reading the newspaper together, he started offering Marco the books he kept in his room, and Marco would excitedly run to fetch one. He always brought it back to reclaim whatever spot on the captain he’d been sitting on.

His favorite was Brag Men, as it told him more of the sea they sailed on, and as he read to himself, Whitebeard would gently correct him if needed and answer any and all questions the boy had regarding the Grand Line.

To the crew it was surprising to find that the boy who’d spent his first few days creeping around the ship could now be found, more often than not, curled up on their captain with his nose stuck in a book.


	3. Fiery Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vista starts teaching Marco to use a sword but ends up learning something about Marco in the worst way possible.

When his blade was knocked from his hand for the fourth time that morning, Marco fumbled to the ground trying to grab it while dodging the last attack. He groaned when Vista paused to lecture him on what he did wrong while also giving him a chance to grab the short sword he’d been given and stand back up.

Captain Whitebeard thought it was important that Marco know how to handle a sword and asked the best swordsman in the crew to provide training lessons. The problem Marco was having is that he was spending more time falling to the deck than doing actual swordplay. Vista was able to disarm him without breaking a sweat and barely had to move to do it.

They started again, and Marco managed to parry a single attack before his sword once again clattered to the deck. He could feel his temper flaring, but as he grabbed the hilt and got back into position an idea came to him, one guaranteed to distract Vista and give him an opening.

When Vista lunged forward, instead of blocking, Marco moved his sword arm out to the side and took the strike directly in his shoulder. He cringed at the sharp pain of the blade piercing his skin, but when Vista’s eyes widened in horror, Marco swung his short sword and lightly pressed the point against the older pirate’s neck.

Marco grinned, and pride welled up inside him. “I win that round, yoi!” he declared with a self-satisfied laugh. It was only then he realized that the crewmembers watching were less excited about his victory. His smile dropped, and he asked, “What’s wrong?”

They were all shouting for a doctor. Marco raised an eyebrow, not understanding their overreaction, but when he looked at Vista, the swordsman’s face was deathly pale. FInally, he checked on the wound he’d taken, since it was still stinging. Blood poured from it, and part of him was annoyed that he’d ruined another shirt, but Marco was surprised that the blade had gone all the way through his shoulder.

“Marco, I’m so sorry,” Vista apologized, glancing around silently begging the doctor to arrive soon.

“Huh? I’m fine, yoi,” Marco promised. “I’d be better if you took the sword out, though.”

Vista emphatically shook his head. “You should never take it out if you can help it. It can help staunch blood flow and pulling it out can cause more damage.”

“That’s dumb.” With a roll of his eyes, Marco threw himself backwards off the blade. He felt it cut through more muscle, but the moment it was out, bright cerulean flames erupted around the entrance and exit wounds, healing the injury within seconds.

As if it never happened.

Grateful that the pain was gone, he glanced around and was surrounded by expressions of shock and awe. Well, Vista still looked pretty horrified. Finally the doctor showed up, but with no wound, there was nothing for him to do. He could only assure the other crewmembers that Marco was completely unharmed. The report seemed to comfort Vista, but a deep voice from behind made Marco freeze.

“Marco,” came the warning tone of Whitebeard. “Care to explain?”

The young boy approached his captain and awkwardly scratched the back of his head. Maybe surprising them with his ability hadn’t been the best idea. “It’s why those other pirates had me locked away, yoi.”

“Because you ate a Devil Fruit.” It wasn’t said as a question, and Marco was shocked to hear it spoken so casually. Seeing his wary expression and as if sensing the thoughts running through his mind, Whitebeard explained that several members of the crew possessed Devil Fruit abilities including himself.

Hearing there were others on the ship like him took a weight off Marco’s shoulders that he didn’t even know was there. He wasn’t quite comfortable enough to explain the specifics or even disclose the name of his fruit, but he did say that it gave him regenerative abilities.

There were no hard feelings about him keeping his fruit secret, but Whitebeard scolded him for scaring Vista the way he did. Marco was forced to apologize and had to promise to never let himself get stabbed as a means of distraction.

At the very least he swore he wouldn’t do it to another crewmate again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Vista. Marco is such a little shit.


	4. Birdseed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco meets a cook apprentice and they talk about food.

Food quickly became one of the best things about being aboard the Moby. Thanks to his Devil Fruit, Marco could go a lot longer than the average person before he felt any negative side effects to starvation, but he hasn’t missed a single meal since the Whitebeard Pirates took him in.

Even if he wanted to skip, one of the cook apprentices had taken to sitting with him to make sure he was eating. He was a few years older than Marco with ginger hair and introduced himself as Thatch. When they’d first met, Thatch dropped into the seat opposite him during lunchtime and congratulated him on his prank on Vista, refusing to listen when Marco tried to deny it as such.

“Rumor is Pops found you locked up with the treasure on that pirate ship we took down,” Thatch probed, leaning over the table with a friendly but curious grin. Marco rolled his eyes and gave a half-hearted shrug. Subtlety clearly wasn’t Thatch’s strong suit.

Marco focused on his food, hoping it would represent his strong desire to be left alone.

Instead, Thatch took his silent response as permission to continue and asked, “What’d they feed you in there?”

“Nothing,” Marco replied simply, raising a brow when Thatch looked horrified. Humming thoughtfully to himself, he amended his answer. “Well, they tossed birdseed at me every few days, yoi.” It wasn’t even good birdseed.

“Wha- that’s crazy!” His face scrunched up, and he looked torn between bewilderment and anger which amused the younger boy.

Marco supposed it’s probably funnier when you know about his zoan form.

This led to many questions about preferred foods, and when Marco couldn’t provide adequate responses, Thatch decided to help him figure out what he liked. That’s how they ended up eating meals together every day, and even if he talked a lot and didn’t know the meaning of personal space, Thatch was a pretty great first friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An extra short chapter, but a cute little scene for how Marco met Thatch.


	5. What's a Pops?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> None of the other crewmembers call Whitebeard "captain" and Marco wants to know why.

Perched on his captain’s shoulder, Marco snapped closed the book he’d been reading. It was a fascinating journal detailing a trip through islands in the sky. Marco incredulously looked up at the clear blue sky and the few wisps of clouds floating by. Whitebeard assured him that they were real, but there was no great White Sea that Marco could see.

It was a peaceful day for sailing, so most of his crewmates were lazing about, drinking and laughing. They’d often yell over to make a joke with the captain who’d laugh a deep, “Gurarara,” that would have Marco shaking and gripping the large man’s shirt to avoid tumbling over. The Whitebeard Pirates were always like this. Cheerful and open with each other, even their captain. None of the other crews acted like this, but then Marco was always locked up in some way so possibly they did when he wasn’t around.

“Hey,” the young boy started, briefly pausing to make sure he had Whitebeard’s attention, “what’s a Pops anyway?” It was the way the entire crew referred to their captain, but Marco had never heard the term before and thought it might be a New World pirate thing.

“This crew is my family. They are my sons, and I their father.”

“So a Pops is like a dad?” he confirmed. That was a little surprising. Glancing over the pirates scattered about, his widened eyes shot to Whitebeard in shock. “Wait, all these guys are your kids?”

“Perhaps not in blood, but we care for each other the same way.”

Marco hummed and kicked his legs as he thought, feet a barely noticeable tap to the older man.

“I’ve never had a dad before.”

The matter-of-fact comment garnered extra attention from Whitebeard who only offered a leading, “Oh?” to which Marco shrugged and slid down the fabric covering his chest.

“Yeah.” The boy seemed all the smaller standing atop Whitebeard’s knee, and he looked back with a mischievous smirk tinged with sincerity and said, “See you later, Pops!” before jumping down to the deck, a surprised and happy father grinning after him.


	6. Slow Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco has healed instantaneously for so long that it's hard to remember others don't heal like he does. He gets an unfortunate reminder when Thatch gets injured in battle.

The discovery of Marco’s healing power couldn’t have come soon enough. A young upstart rookie decided to test their luck against the powerful crew. It happened every so often, a side effect of the rapidly rising reputation the Whitebeards were building, but this time they had their newest brother to worry about.

Fights were scattered about the deck, but there was always someone keeping an eye on Marco who was using his developing sword skills to fight off the enemy pirates. Every so often there would be a flash of blue light, which, in a way, was actually a strange source of comfort for them, knowing that the kid instantly healed from whatever damage dealt him.

By the time the battle was finished, Marco didn’t have a scratch on him despite the multiple lacerations in his clothes. He plucked at the fabric and frowned. He really liked that shirt, but at least now he had others to replace it. The thought brought a small smile to his face, and speaking of simple thoughts, Marco wondered where Thatch got off to.

Whitebeard sat in his chair on deck and was watching his crew raid the enemy ship when Marco ran up to him.

“Hey, Pop, yoi,” the boy called up to him. “Do you know where Thatch it?”

“I believe I saw him with the nurses.”

“Thanks!” Marco darted off towards the infirmary. One of the nurses was exiting just as he got there, and he smiled up at her. “Hey, is Thatch still here?”

Her face tightened. She frowned at him and slowly nodded her head, saying, “He got injured during the battle.”

“Well, is he better yet?”

“Marco,” she sighed, kneeling to be closer to his height. “Thatch was hurt pretty badly, and it will take time before he’s okay.”

“Oh, yoi.” The boy furrowed his brow. During the attack, he’d been slashed and stabbed multiple times, and he was totally fine.

As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, the nurse smiled gently and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “We don’t heal as fast as you do, Marco.”

Marco rolled his eyes at the obvious statement. “Duh,” looking at her as if she was crazy, “so will he be okay in twenty minutes?” She shook her head. “An hour?” He dropped his jaw in shock when she said no. “What about tonight, yoi? We were going to play!”

“He’ll be on bed rest for a couple days.”

“Days? How slow do you people heal?!” Without waiting for an answer, Marco stormed off.

He ran back to Pops and crawled inside one of the big pockets of the captain’s coat. It was his go to place when he got upset, warm and enclosed and it shook every time Pops so much as spoke.

Pops allowed him a few minutes to himself to get comfortable and collect himself, but when he gently asked what was wrong, Marco shouted, “The nurses are stupid, yoi!” The young boy furiously rubbed at his tearful eyes. His pocket shook, and a large hand appeared to scoop him out.

Sitting in his palm in front of him, Marco’s red puffy eyes couldn’t be hidden from Pops who grunted in sympathy. “Don’t be unkind to them, Marco,” Pops lightly chided. “What did they tell you?”

“That Thatch is still hurt, yoi, and won’t be better for several days,” he sniffled, trying hard not to cry anymore in front of his captain.

“Son, your healing is a wonder, but the rest of us don’t heal the same way. Sometimes we’re fine right away and sometimes we need a few days or even weeks to get back into fighting shape. You can’t blame the nurses for that.”

“But...if the injury is still there, does that mean the pain is, too?” Marco gazed sadly up at Pops. Pain didn’t mean much to the boy. He felt it, sure, but his flames healed him so quickly that it was rarely more than a few seconds of sensation before it disappeared. As if it never happened. Marco’s never had to deal with continuous pain, and there was a tugging on his heart when he realized that that wasn’t the case for everyone else.

Logically, he’d always known that, but there was never someone he cared enough about to really think about it before.

“I’m afraid so, but I bet having one of his brothers around might help him feel better. Why don’t you drop by the infirmary later after he’s had some rest?”

Marco wiped away the last of his drying tears, comforted by his new father’s words, and managed a grin. To keep his mind busy, he read with Pops until dinnertime when he ran back to the medbay. He ran into one of the nurses who said he could visit Thatch but only if he stayed quiet and was wary of his crewmate’s wounds.

Promising, he had a sudden idea and asked something of the patient woman. When she let him into the room, Thatch was awake and smiling.

“Hey, Marco,” he said. His voice sounded weak, and he winced a bit as he shifted to sit up a little more.

“Are you feeling okay, yoi?” Marco asked, looking worriedly over the bandages covering the side of his friend’s chest.

“I’m doing great. Those nurses just like to fuss sometimes.” His answer made Marco perk up, but then he rubbed at a spot on his side and frowned. The nurse warned him not to take Thatch’s lighthearted attitude about his injury seriously. “What’cha got there?” Thatch asked, noticing Marco touching his shirt.

Grinning, Marco lifted his shirt to show the bandage he had gotten the nurse to put on him. Thatch gaped, concern filling him before it turned to confusion when he remembered the smaller boy’s healing power. “I got this so I can remember that you’re hurt and be more careful, yoi!”

The bandage was exactly where his own was, and Thatch felt his heart warm at Marco’s concern.

“In that case, come on up here,” insisted Thatch, scooting over a bit to make room. “You’re an official wounded pirate, which means bedrest.” He didn’t have to wait long before a chuckling Marco crawled up next to him, the tugging of his bandage a gentle reminder to watch where he laid his arm.

For the rest of the evening, Marco told him all the ways he got hit during the battle, and Thatch made him laugh by acting like a nurse and explaining in exaggerated detail all the ridiculous things he’d have to do to recover. They joked until someone brought dinner by, but no one tried to make Marco leave, even as he and Thatch were falling asleep next to each other on the hospital bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Marco. We are but normal commoners without magic healing powers.


	7. Learning to Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco asks Thatch to help him learn a new skill.

“I want to learn how to fly, yoi.”

Thatch paused kneading the bread dough and glanced over his shoulder where Marco stood. The kid had his hands on his hips and didn’t look like he’d take no for an answer.

“Don’t we all,” the apprentice chef laughed. “Maybe try flapping your arms hard enough.” A burst of flames covered Marco head to toe. Thatch yelped and yanked his hands from the sticky dough but held them helplessly in front of him and frantically cursed to himself.  _ Was Marco seriously injured? Why was he only now healing? He’d never covered his entire body in flames before. Was he going to die? Was Marco dying? How was he supposed to explain this to the nurses? How was he gonna tell Pops? What if- _

Thatch was suddenly pulled from his inner ramblings when the fire calmed down and took the shape of a bird.

“Yoi,” the fiery blue bird chirped.

“M-M-Marco?” Thatch stammered in wide-eyed confusion. “Since when are you a bird?”

Dramatically rolling his eyes, in a flash of fire, a human child once again stood in front of him. “I want to learn how to fly,” he repeated.

Thatch’s mouth opened and closed as he searched for words to say while his brain caught up to the situation. Overwhelmed by the realization that there was more to Marco’s Devil Fruit than what he’d told him, Thatch found himself saying the first thing that came to his mind that seemed to make sense.

“Well…birds learn by jumping out of the nest, right?”

Minutes later, they were out on deck with Marco quickly climbing the mast, calling down, “You have to catch me,” on his way.

Reflexively nodding his head, Thatch watched the younger boy reach the crows nest and transform back into the bird he revealed earlier. Marco perched on the wooden rim, talons digging into the wood, and gave a few experimental flaps of his wings. Thatch watched warily but froze when he heard a deep voice behind him.

“Son, what are you doing?” Pops eyed the apprentice chef suspiciously, not uncalled for considering how much mischief Thatch occasionally indulged in.

“Nothing,” he said too fast to be anything but a lie.

The warning stare of his captain had Thatch sweating, and he almost broke until someone’s shout reminded him of what he was supposed to be doing. Unfortunately, by the time he turned back around it was already too late.

A mass of solid cerulean flames crashed into the deck nearby with a horrifying crunch and a sharp cry of pain. When a newly transformed human Marco sat up, blue fire still licking across his body, he glared at Thatch. “What the hell, yoi? You were supposed to catch me!”

“And you were supposed to fly,” he weakly argued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouch. Good thing Marco can heal.


	8. Learning to Fly pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco's still trying to fly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think someone asked for a part 2 with more Pops involved.  
> It's short and essentially keyboard smashing, but not bad (I hope) for all the writer's block I've had.

“Alright, son, right into my arms.”

“The point is to not land in your arms, Pops” Marco rolls his eyes from his place on the crowsnest. Ever since the flying debacle where Thatch failed in his duty to catch him, Marco wasn’t allowed to practice unless Pops himself was there to catch him. Granted the large captain did a much better job and certainly made for a more comfortable landing pad than Thatch would have, but he still thought everyone was overreacting.

He and Thatch both got into massive trouble for terrifying everyone with the gruesome sound of Marco’s body breaking against the deck, and there was no avoiding the long overdue conversation about the true nature of Marco’s Phoenix Devil Fruit. Thankfully Pops wasn’t too mad about the deception and eagerly suggested they have flying lessons more often.

The suggestion was more like a captain’s order.

Shifting into his avian form, Marco stretched his wings. This was their first lesson since the time Thatch messed up, and Marco looked tentatively at the height even with Pops standing below, ready and waiting to catch him. It was that he was scared or wary of the pain, he’d heal just like always, but that didn’t mean breaking his bones and bursting his organs was enjoyable.

Cautiously flapping his wings, he was able to lift barely half an inch into the air before dropping back onto the wooden rim. He nodded at Pops and jumped. One flap down kept him airborne but when he tried to raise his wings they caught the air and sent him tumbling. His fall was only a couple seconds before Pops’ arms were cradling him.

Marco’s wings were trapped against his side, but he transformed back when he realized his talons were clawing Pops.

“Sorry,” he muttered, but Pops laughed him off.

“Ready to try again?” Marco grinned and nodded.

He was set down, and as he ran back to climb the mast, he caught Thatch’s eye, who had wanted to watch his flying practice, and loudly said with unmistakable sass, “Good thing I had you here to catch me, Pops!”


	9. Mimicry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco torments Thatch with a new skill.

“Thatch, get your ass to the kitchens! You got chores to do!” The sharp voice of the head chef cut across the deck. The young apprentice jerked up from where he was leaning against the railing, his expression a mixture of surprise and fear as he ran off inside. 

\--

“Hey Thatch, go check inventory in stockroom four!” Namur ordered.

\--

“You need to swab the deck, Thatch!” That sounded like Rakuyo.

\--

“Thatch, you’ve got night watch tonight!” And now there’s Jozu cutting in.

\--

All week long, Thatch had been running back and forth all over the ship, following orders that various commanders had been yelling at him. None of them even approached him, just shouted across the deck, and he couldn’t figure out why he was suddenly everyone’s gofer.

Marco was sitting on Pop’s shoulder, leaning against the large man’s neck while watching the apprentice chef deal with the latest of his random orders. Namur had told Thatch to organize the loose rigging around the deck, get it out of the way.

At least, Thatch thought it was Namur.

Snickering to himself, Marco grinned even as Pops lifted his shoulder to grab the young Zoan’s attention. “How long do you plan to keep at this, son?”

“Until it stops being funny,” Marco said, even though he knew it was a rhetorical question that meant more along the lines of “Stop torturing your brother.” As amused as Pops sounded by the shenanigans of his children, he clearly wanted the Phoenix to stop revenge pranking Thatch.

Sighing, Marco sat up and rubbed his throat, doing a few vocal exercises until he reached a lower timbre indistinguishable from his captain’s voice. He waited until the young chef was passing close by to say, “Thatch, my son.” Thatch glanced up in surprise, and his eyes widened in horror as he realized the voice wasn’t coming from the captain but the boy sitting on his shoulder. “Be sure you catch your brother next time he tries to fly.”

“Y-you? This has all been you?!”

“Guilty, yoi,” Marco admitted, and it was disconcerting to hear the deep voice of their father coming out of a child.

“Stop that!”

Marco laughed but massaged his throat, testing his voice until it was back to normal. It was honestly a relief. Mimicking other peoples’ voices left his throat sore, and it didn’t help that he’d been doing it all week long.

“Happy now?” he asked.

“Have you forgiven me?”

Marco made a show of thinking hard but eventually let himself grin and jump down. “Yeah, I guess so, yoi. Want to go trick Haruta with Blenheim’s voice?”

“Let’s go!” The two boys laughed and ran off to torment their crewmates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's fun imagining all the terror Marco could (and would) inflict if he could mimic the voices of his crewmates.


	10. Meeting Shanks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco's first time on an island gets a little too exciting when one of the Roger Pirates show up.

“Land, ho!” the man up in the crowsnest yelled out. Marco darted to the front of the Moby, jittery with excitement. This would be the first island he’d be allowed to explore since joining with the crew, and he even got a small allowance of berries to spend.

They were able to moor in the main port. The island was under the Whitebeard Pirates’ protection, they didn’t want their young recruit’s first island to be too dangerous. Things took an interesting turn, however, when a very familiar ship was docked nearby.

Pops could only sigh when he recognized the jolly roger. “What the hell is he doing here?”

“Someone should probably stick with Marco while we’re here,” Jozu suggested when he noticed what drew his captain’s attention.

“Good idea. Marco!” Pops called out. When no one replied, he tried again, “Marco?” Dammit.

Marco had jumped ship before the ropes were even tied off. There was no way he was going to risk getting saddled with a babysitter last minute. He knew their protectiveness was because they cared - still an honestly strange feeling but a good one - but it wasn’t as if anything could hurt him. Not permanently, anyway.

The town was small, peaceful, with an extensive market that Marco wandered through. To make his money last, he only bought things that were a few hundred berries at most, little things like candies or trinkets. Everything else he stole, like the shiny gold hooped earrings he filched while no one was looking or the book on navigation still shoved down his shirt.

He was sitting by a tree on the outside of town, eagerly looking through his pile of new possessions, when he saw it. Walking along the path was a boy with shocking red hair, and loosely hanging about his waist was a golden belt that reminded Marco of his phoenix’s tail feathers. It glittered and bounced with every step the boy took.

Marco had to have it.

Shoving everything into a small bag - soft leather for the ultimate price of free - he quickly circled ahead to come at the boy from the front. He made a show of looking around so he could “accidentally” bump into him.

“So sorry, yoi,” Marco said, his hands brushing the other’s waist as if to stabilize him from the collision while his nimble fingers stole the belt. A perfect lift, and Marco was on his way, excited to take a closer look at his new shiny belt when someone grabbed his wrist.

“I’ll be taking that back, thanks.”

Looking at the length of gold in his hand, Marco met the red haired boy’s narrow-eyed stare and boldly stated, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The boy’s lip twitched in amusement while he raised an incredulous brow.

He lunged for the belt, but Marco ripped his hand out of the boy’s grip and jumped back. They danced around each other as the boy kept trying to snatch back what Marco had rightfully stolen. After long enough, Marco snickered while the other boy became more and more frustrated until he pulled out the short sword adorning his hip.

The glint of light on the blade reminded Marco that he’d abandoned his sword on the Moby Dick in favor of a quicker escape to the island. Despite the added danger, he couldn’t feel very threatened, not when he was used to training with a master swordsman like Vista, but he was aware of the sharp whistle as it cut through the air.

Then everything went wrong when Marco didn’t move fast enough, and he cried out in pain as the golden belt hit the ground along with a few of his fingers. What was more surprising was the started yelp from the boy who cut them off, not having expected to actually seriously injure the young thief.

“Oh crap!” The boy yanked off the brown sash from around his waist and wrapped it around Marco’s hand without looking at the bloody nubs. “I’m sorry, I am so, so sorry!”

Large tears were welling up in the blond’s eyes when a deep and cheerful voice bellowed, “Shanks, there you are!” Coming up the way was a large man with a red captain’s coat and thick black moustache. His wide grin dropped slightly when he saw the boy now known as Shanks frantically standing by Marco whos hand was wrapped up and clutched to his chest.

“Captain Roger, we need your help!”

Without any preamble, Roger rushed forward. “What happened? Are you boys okay?”

Marco sobbed loudly, wiping at the tears streaking his face, while Shanks looked up helplessly at his captain. “He tried to steal that belt you gave me, and we got into it, but…” Having trouble getting the words out, he picked the dismembered fingers off the ground and showed them off.

“Shit.” Roger grabbed Marco into his arms and told Shanks to follow him before taking off into a run. “We’ll take him back to the Oro Jackson.”

“No,” Marco blurted. “My ship.”

“Kid, you need a doctor immediately.”

“My crew has one, yoi. It’s the Moby Dick, the one with the whale.”

The abrupt silence was palpable.

“You’re one of Newgate’s boys?”

When Marco nodded his head, Roger hissed, “Double shit,” but he did head towards the Whitebeards when they reached the docks.

There was no hope for a quiet arrival once word spread that Captain Roger was carrying their youngest recruit as he came up the gangplank, one of his own cabin boys in tow. He exclaimed that he needed their doctor, but while someone went to fetch the nurses, no one seemed particularly concerned.

“Bring him over here,” Whitebeard said, and Roger couldn’t understand why they weren’t showing him the way to the medbay. The larger man stared down at the blond boy in Roger’s arms with a tired look remarkably less worried than expected of the father-like captain. “Marco, are you alright?”

The injured boy sniffled but nodded his head. To Roger’s shock, Whitebeard sighed wearily at the confirmation.

“You can set him down, Roger.” Sputtering, he did so, and Marco moved closer to his captain who was wearing his “disapproving father” face.

“Seems he got into a tussle and lost some fingers,” Roger explained, skipping over the part where Shanks was the one who did it, but gestured for the kid to show the pieces.

“Marco, take off that cloth,” Whitebeard ordered. Stiffening, Marco looked at his Pops. His shoulders began to shake, and Roger started to wonder if he needed to plan for a new crewmate on the Jackson before realizing that the kid had stopped sobbing and was laughing.

Marco grinned at Roger and took off the makeshift bandage. He dropped the barely bloody cloth and waggled his freshly regrown fingers at Shanks.

“Y-you,” the Roger Pirate apprentice stammered, “You were fine this entire time?!”

“I wouldn’t say the entire time,” Marco admitted. “It takes at least a few extra seconds to regrow something, yoi. By the way, I still want the belt.” At Shanks’ dropped jaw, he planted his hands on his hips. “I’ve earned it after you cut my fingers off.”

Disbelief gave way to admiration, and Shanks smirked. He thumbed over the belt and passed it over. “Fine. Hope you think of me every time you wear it-”

A startled flush colored Marco’s cheeks.

“-and the fact that I beat you.”

The color turned angry, and Shanks ran away from the suddenly-turned fiery bird attempting to claw his eyes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marco, you goddamn little shit.


	11. Grounded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco faces punishment for his prank on Shanks.

“But I didn’t do anything wrong, yoi,” Marco grumbled. His arms wrapped around his knees where he sat on the armrest of Pops’ chair on deck. A thin golden chain circled his ankle, the end of which was tied around his father’s finger.

“Son, you tricked young Shanks into thinking he had permanently maimed you.”

“He attacked me.”

“After you attempted to rob him.”

“Attempted nothing,” he objected, insulted. “I succeeded, yoi, and earned that belt!” The very belt that currently sparkled around his hips. What had felt like a satisfying victory quickly turned sour when Marco woke up the next day to be told he was grounded.

Not even locked in his room grounded, but chained to Pops unable to fly grounded. The joke was not lost on the young boy.

Even the chain itself was more symbolic since Marco could easily break it, but to do so suggested worse punishment. Knowing Pops, it was probably supposed to be some kind of lesson in self-control, but Marco was too busy thinking about how he finally found a piece of gold jewelry that he hated. He idly flicked the chain to make it jingle.

Being grounded wasn’t really the punishment Pops hoped it was, cause Marco couldn’t do any chores while tethered to the large captain. All in all, there were worse ways to spend the da—

“Good day, Newgate!” Ah hell. Captain Roger boarded the Moby without a care, Marco would dare to call it a strut, and following behind him was a bespectacled blond and the annoying red haired brat. His annoyance skyrocketed after Shanks started laughing the moment he noticed the phoenix zoan’s ankle leash.

The harsh glare Marco shot him only made him laugh harder.

“Pops, yoi,” he hissed, “what are they doing here?”

Pops sounded far more amused than he had any right when he answered, “They’re here so you can apologize.” Marco’s head whipped around to stare wide-eyed at him.

“No way!” He crossed his arms and frowned. “Since when do pirates have to say they’re sorry?”

“Since you’re still a child that needs to learn his manners before he’s strong enough to disregard them.” The arch of Pops’ brow dared Marco to continue complaining. He huffed but stayed quiet, but that didn’t mean he was happy to watch the Roger Pirates approach.

Shanks had calmed down to a repressed snicker, but his expectant expression made clear that he knew why he was there. On one hand, Marco didn’t want to disappoint Pops (and it was technically a punishment), but that stupid smug grin begged for a punch in the face, which Marco assumed wouldn’t count as an apology.

They stared at each other in silence for several minutes.

“Son,” Pops said in a warning tone. Marco’s eyes flickered over to him before he sighed.

“Fine, fine, yoi,” he groaned, ruffling a hand through his blond curls, and turned his narrow gaze back at Shanks. “I’m sorry you couldn’t take a joke.”

Shanks pouted. “I like jokes just fine, but that was a pretty mean one. I was really worried.”

The admission turned Marco’s cheeks pink. “Well...sorry, I guess,” he quietly grumbled then louder demanded, “And where’s  _ my _ apology, yoi? You did cut my fingers off.”

“You’re right. I’m very sorry, Marco!” The ease at which Shanks admitted fault irritated Marco to an unreasonable degree. “Want to go hang out in town with me?”

What? Exhaling sharply, Marco raised his hands in a show of mock regret. “Can’t. I’m grounded, yoi.” He shook his ankle to draw attention to the thin chain.

“Oh.” Suddenly, Shanks looked up at Pops and entreated, “But since I forgive him, it’s okay, right?”

Much to Marco’s displeasure, his captain laughed. “You may have a point. Go on, Marco. It’s important to spend time with kids your age.” Bursting into fire, Marco quickly tried to fly away only to be yanked back by the golden leash around his ankle. The surprise from forgetting about it ended up crashing him back down to the armrest.

Pops pulled the chain off from where it was tied to his fingers and leaned down to pass it to Shanks. Marco kept pulling at it, but it was only long enough to let him get a few feet above the other boy who kept a surprisingly strong hold on the leash.

“Sweet! Let’s go, Marco!” Holding on tight, Shanks ran off towards the town with an embarrassed Marco dragged through the air and squawking at him.

The captains laughed together as they watched. “Thatch,” Pops called out, “maybe you should go with them. Make sure your brother doesn’t misbehave too much.”

“On it, Pops!” The young pirate chased after the other two boys. Personally, he thought Shanks seemed like a ton of fun, and it was always worth the inevitable payback to get to laugh at Marco who was already giving Thatch the fiercest glare a bird was capable of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I kind of forgot Rayleigh, there, but Marco didn't really care about him at that time, so...


	12. Chipped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shanks just wanted to show off his new technique. He didn't think he'd actually be able to hurt Marco!

It had been months of sailing, exploring islands, and spending gun times with his crew before Marco ever had to see that red haired boy again. The Whitebeards docked at a Fall island that was in the midst of winter, so it was cold and windy which left Marco fairly miserable. Before he was allowed to step off the ship to explore, he was wrapped up in a thick jacket with a bright blue scarf covering the bottom of his face.

Before he left the ship, Pops warned him that the Roger Pirates were docked on the same island and that he needed to behave unless they tried something first. Sighing loudly, Marco begrudgingly agreed, mostly because doing so was the only way he’d be allowed to go, and hopped off the side of the Moby Dick, transforming his arms into wings to quickly glide down. He went straight into the town, filching a few trinkets from a few shops since he had the extra pocket space to do so. While he was looking at a set of cartographer tools, a shiver ran down his spine just before—

“Marco! It’s great to see you!” The voice was chipper, pissing Marco off even more as he was huddled in on himself for warmth, and its owner threw an arm over his shoulder. Shrugging off the arm, he turned to face Shanks who looked far too comfortable in only a light coat.

“What are you doing here, yoi?” Marco groaned.

“When I heard Whitebeard was here, I had to come find you,” Shanks grinned, and Marco’s face flushed pink from something other than the cold.

“Why would you bother?”

“Because we’re friends!” That grin set butterflies off in Marco’s stomach, and he frowned, shoving passed Shanks with a scoff.

“The hell we are, yoi!”

Shanks laughed and slipped his arm around Marco’s. “Now come on.” He started pulling him down the street. “I learned a new fighting technique, and I want to show you.” Curiosity got the better of him, and Marco allowed Shanks to show him towards a nearby park. There were a couple families walking around and enjoying the crisp air in a way that felt personally offensive to Marco who burrowed even deeper into his scarf. They found a stretch of unoccupied grass, and Shanks finally let him go.

Standing a reasonable distance apart, Shanks raised a fist, and Marco watched as it turned black. He was taken aback that the other boy apparently knew Armament Haki, something that even he hadn’t unlocked yet, and had to catch himself before he looked too impressed.

“You’ve got haki now, yoi. So what?” Marco fake sneered, refusing to admit that he was a little jealous.

Shanks’ frown was very nearly a pout, but it quickly turned back into a smile with a determined snicker. “Captain says haki is the weakness of devil fruits, which means with this I can hit you, even in your Phoenix form.”

Lowering into a fighting stance, Marco smirked. “Only if you’re fast enough.”

When Shanks charged at him, he swiftly dodged to the side and blocked the next hit. Shanks’ first had returned to its normal color, so he probably couldn’t hold the haki coating for very long. They started with simple punches and kicks, flowing around each other, and it helped warm Marco up even though his winter clothes hampered his movements. Anyone in the surrounding area either left to avoid getting in their way or started watching the two boys go at it, none seeming to realize that they were each members of notorious pirate crews.

During an attempted leg sweep, Marco leapt up and shifted into his Phoenix form to avoid. Shanks’ eyes widened at the change and took on a sharp gleam, but there was a glimmer of wonderment in them that always marvelled at the beautiful cerulean flames. Marco had gotten much better at partial transformations during combat and he went to claw the other with his talons before turning them back into his leg, using the extra reach gained by his human limb to successfully kick Shanks.

This went on for a couple more minutes until Shanks grabbed Marco’s ankle, yanked him down, pulled back a haki coated fist, and—

Marco crashed to the chilled grass in a blaze of fire as he transformed back into being fully human. Blood soaked a river down his scarf as Marco clamped the fabric down over his nose.

Worried about injuring his friend stiled Shanks until he remembered about his healing powers, but the concern grew when Marco didn’t immediately stand back up to resume the spar. The blond’s breath began to quicken, and he hissed, “Why isn’t it healing, yoi?” He stared up at Shanks with slightly fearful eyes, “ _ Why isn’t it healing!? _ ”

Unsure if this was just another prank, Shank still grabbed Marco’s arm to help him up. “Come on, let’s get you back to your ship.” His thumb rubbed small circles on the injured boy’s shoulder as they walked, somewhat soothing him.

It was a little uncomfortable stepping foot onto the Moby Dick after having wounded their crewmate. Again. But when Whitebeard gazed at his bloodied son and asked if he was okay and got a tearful shake of the head, a nurse quickly appeared and hurried the young boy to the medical ward. Shanks awkwardly shifted his weight between his feet until Whitebeard motioned him forward. “Young Shanks, perhaps you should go find your captain,” he firmly suggested. Shanks glanced at him then moved to gaze sadly in the direction the nurse took his friend, and Whitebeard promised, “He’ll be fine. Marco’s taken worse hits than this. If you’re so worried, then you can return tomorrow to check on him. Maybe he can tell you of the time that Thatch didn’t catch him.”

Hearing the dismissal, Shanks reluctantly left, running through the streets until he found some of the Roger Pirates. They pointed him in the direction of Roger who was spending time with Buggy which was all the better. He found them nearer the coast and ran up and grabbed his captain’s coat. Sensing the boy’s mood even before he turned, Roger swept him with one arm, snatching Buggy up with the other, and did what he could to cheer up his unusually sulky apprentice.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to be done until Roger walked him back the following day. When the giant whale figurehead came into view, Shanks raced ahead and boarded the Whitebeard ship, it’s captain watching him looking oddly uncomfortable. Scanning the deck, Shanks perked up and grinned when he saw Marco slightly hidden, perched on Whitebeard’s shoulder.

“Marco!” Instead of being happy - that was probably a thin hope considering what happened - or even showing his feigned indifference or annoyance, Marco pursed his lips angrily and leapt off his captain’s shoulder to run away below deck.

Roger coughed into his fist and placed a comforting hand on the boy’s head. “I’m sure it’s not personal,” he tried, and Shanks looked up at him hopefully until another young boy eating an apple popped up beside them. He remembered his name was Thatch.

“It’s actually pretty personal.” He took a bite of the fruit and nodded his head. “Hey, how’s it going?”

“What do you mean personal? I know I punched him, but surely he’ll forgive me, right? Not like it’s the first time.”

“See, normally I’d say maybe,” Thatch knew better than anyone how long Marco could hold a grudge, “but we actually found out something pretty interesting with all this.” Motioning for the zoan user to follow him, Thatch led him off into the ship. “You haki fisted Marco to the face. That beak of his is the only spot that isn’t made of his freaky healing fire when he’s a phoenix. Turns out, that means it’s also the only spot that can actually get injured. Congratulations, Shanks,” in far too bright a tone of barely restrained laughter, Thatch clapped a hand on Shanks’ shoulder, “you bashed Marco in literally the only place that he can’t magically heal.” 

Shanks’ jaw dropped, but he recovered from the shock to choke out a worried, “Is he okay?!” He couldn’t believe when Thatch actually started to laugh.

“Oh he’s fine, his vanity just took a hit,” he assured him. Shanks looked around the hallway Thatch was leading him down and wondered where he was being led to when they stopped in front of a door. Thatch held a finger in front of his mouth and knocked.

When there was no response, he knocked again.

“What, yoi?!” Shanks’ startled at Marco’s shout.

“Come out of hiding already, won’t you?”

“No!”

Thatch rolled his eyes fondly and winked at Shanks. “Come on, I promise they’re gone.”

Marco fell quiet for a moment, and his voice was hesitant when he mumbled, “You promise, yoi?”

“Cross my heart,” Thatch said, drawing an x over his heart even though Marco couldn’t see it. The door slowly creaked open, and Thatch shoved his arm in and dragged Marco out before the boy could retaliate.

“What are you doi-” Marco froze when he caught sight of Shanks, and his mouth zipped shut.

“Come on, now, give us a smile!” A grinning Thatch curled an arm around his friend’s shoulders.

He covered his mouth with his hand. “No way!”

Snickering, Thatch quickly moved his arm to put Marco into a headlock and rubbed his fist into the golden curls. “Don’t be stubborn. Look how sad he is.” Marco stopped struggling for a moment to find Shanks’ guilty eyes. “Don’t you think he deserves to know why you’re such a grumpy birdy today?”

Marco growled and knocked Thatch off of him. Frowning, he stared at Shanks through narrowed eyes and, without preamble, opened his mouth. One of his teeth was broken, and after only a few seconds, Marco closed his mouth with an unhappy pout.

“I-I broke his tooth?” Shanks was torn between guilt and a little bit of wonder that he actually permanently damaged the immortal phoenix.

“Well, actually you cracked his beak. That’s just how it translated over when he turned human,” Thatch explained. “He’s a little embarrassed about it,” the boy in question glared, cheeks turning pink, “but it should grow out and be alright. Probably.”

“Probably?”

Thatch shrugged. “This has never happened before.”

Shanks turned to Marco who was petulantly avoiding his gaze. “Marco, I am so, so sorry!” Marco’s eyes shifted over. He ruffled his hair and approached Shanks.

“Fine, yoi,” Marco said right before slamming his foot into Shanks’ stomach and walking away. “You’re forgiven.”

Thatch bowed over, tearing up from laughter, as Shanks wrapped his arms around his middle and dropped to his knees with a pained groan. “You’re lucky he got it over with quick. He must really like you.”

“I think he broke my rib,” Shanks gasped.

“Oh, crap, Shanks! Dammit, Marco!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this ended up being a long chapter.


	13. Fatherhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was just supposed to be a little prank. How was Thatch supposed to know it'd get so complicated?

“So, Marco, when are you going to lay an egg?”

Marco spat out his drink, spewing it all over Thatch’s face, which he deserved for asking such an insane question.

“Why the hell would I ever lay an egg?!” he asked incredulously.

“Because you’re a bird.”

“I’m  _ a Phoenix _ , yoi, and a boy! Boys don’t pop out eggs, stupid.”

“This is the Grand Line, Marco. Anything is possible,” Thatch assured him. Marco scoffed, but his gaze slid over to Vista who was peacefully eating his dinner until he sensed the attention.

“Anything is possible,” the swordsman agreed before returning to his food and ending any further involvement of him in their conversation. Marco narrowed his eyes and refused to believe either of them. He scarfed down the rest of his meal and made a sudden escape. There was no point hanging around Thatch when he got ridiculous ideas in his head, so Marco would just spend the evening with Pops.

Thoughts of Thatch’s question were easily forgotten.

Until a couple weeks later.

Marco woke up one morning, warm and content in his bed, but noticed something different. Swaddled within his blankets down by his hips was what looked like a blue chicken egg. Rolling his eyes, he picked up and hopped out of bed to get dressed.

It wasn’t hard to find Thatch so early in the morning as he was in the kitchen helping with breakfast as always. The boy was peeling a potato when Marco stormed in.

“Thatch, what the hell is this, yoi?” He held up the egg and shoved it in Thatch’s face.

“How should I know?” the cooking apprentice retorted, shoving Marco’s arm away.

“Because it was in my bed, and I know you put it there.”

Thatch laughed and gave Marco an amused smile. “Believe it or not, I actually do have things in my life that don’t revolve around you.” Ouch, but fair. “But if it helps, I was on watch with Vista all last night. Go ask him if you don’t believe me.”

As it so happened, Marco absolutely did not believe him and went off to find their crewmate. Vista was on the main deck polishing his sabers when Marco found him.

“Hey, Vista, yoi, do you know where Thatch was last night?” he asked, testing to see if the swordsman would give the same explanation.

Vista hummed, angling his blade to see the shine of the sun on the polished steel. “We shared the watch, so he was in the crowsnest with me.”

The confirmation shook Marco who felt unbalanced at the realization that he was holding an egg and the only person that would’ve done it hadn’t. He lifted it closer to his face, noticing Vista’s curious eyes following it. It was cool to the touch and the same color as his fiery feathers.

“What have you got there?” he asked, and Marco’s startled wide eyes shot to him.

“I-I think I laid an egg, yoi?”

“Well,” Vista chuckled, “I guess anything really is possible on the Grand Line.”

About three days after Marco discovered the egg, Thatch approached their captain while he was sitting on deck enjoying the fresh air with a large gourd of sake.

He fiddled with the fabric of his shirt, and his hesitancy caught the attention of the older man.

“Pops, we might have a problem.”

“What is it, son?” Pops asked in concern. It was rare for Thatch to look so uncomfortable.

“I tricked Marco into thinking he laid an egg, and now he wants to hatch and raise it as his own child.”

The confession sat silent in the air between them.

“You what?”

Thatch launched into an explanation about how he painted a chicken egg blue and slipped it into Marco’s bed to pretend that the other boy gave birth to it. He’d even gotten Vista to play along since the swordsman was still a little sour about the training incident when they learned about Marco’s healing ability.

“It was only supposed to last a day before he caught on, but now he’s carrying it around everywhere cause he’s got to keep it warm or something. And I walked into his room yesterday, and he was in his phoenix form sitting on it! Make him stop!”

Pops laughed at his son’s plight and grinned. “You made this bed, my son, and I’m afraid you’ll have to come clean to Marco about it.”

Sightin, Thatch nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. Pops was right. He should probably tell Marco the truth before that egg starts to rot…

Or…….

Thatch goes to find Vista in his room and upon the door opening immediately says, “I need you to help me convince Marco that his egg hatched and the chick flew away.”

“What?”

The plan went…...about as well as expected. The first part was to get the egg away from Marco, which he obsessively kept on him at all times. The only possible chance to take it was while Marco was asleep, but thankfully Thatch had mastered the art of sneaking into his friend’s room in the dead of night to prank him. He eased the egg out of Marco’s fingers and got out as fast as possible.

Next he had to catch a bird. Sometimes seabirds would stop to rest on the Moby Dick’s railings, so he just had to be careful. How hard could it be?

It was very hard.

Thatch had a few bleeding scratches on his arms, but he had the bird. Vista helped him paint the tail feathers the same blue as the egg before taking the bird to the planned location.

The final step included Thatch breaking open the egg and emptying the yolk out into the sea, then he snuck back into Marco’s room, put the shell next to the sleeping boy, and opened the porthole as quietly as possible. Considering how they’d found him, Pops had insisted that Marco needed a room with a view to the outside, which worked well in Thatch’s favor.

He leaned his head out and nodded to Vista who looked ready to be done with the struggling bird in his hands. Breathing deep, Thatch left Marco’s room only to slam the door back open, startling Marco awake.

“Marco! I just saw a bird jumping out your window!”

Marco sat up with a gasp and saw the broken egg shell. He threw off the covers and ran to the porthole where Vista had just released the lightly painted seabird so it could fly off into the sky. His eyes squinted, trying to get a better look at the bird that was quickly growing smaller and smaller.

“That didn’t really look like me,” he said with a frown.

“Nah, he had the same eye markings you do when you’re transformed,” Thatch lied.

“Really?” Oh shit, were those tears in Marco’s eyes?

“Y-yeah, for sure. He’s gonna grow up to look just like you, I bet.”

Marco smiled softly. “Thanks, Thatch. It’s too bad he flew away. I-I didn’t ev-even get to s-say go-goodbye.” When Marco started sobbing, Thatch pulled him into a tight hug. He rubbed his back and promised to make him anything he wanted. Sniffling, Marco agreed let his friend lead him towards the kitchen.

  
  
  
  


Later that day, Marco perched on Pops’ shoulder eating a crisp apple. “So, does Thatch actually think that I believe I’d laid an egg?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rule 1: You can't trick Marco.  
> Rule 2: If you try, he will trick you right back.


	14. Haircut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izou gets introduced, and we find out why Marco's hair is the way it is.

To be honest, Marco wasn't sure he liked the new kid. He didn't care about the kimonos or the makeup or that he's always talking about "Oden-sama, Oden-sama," as if he or Thatch were supposed to know who that was, but the Wano refugee seemed hellbent on making them put more effort into their appearances. Apparently the scruffy orphan pirate look offended Izou's delicate sensibilities, and Marco was man enough to admit that he'd purposefully worn the same clothes for an entire week straight without washing them just to watch the growing horror and disgust on that painted face each day.

It was always nice when Marco didn’t have to expend any real effort in order to spite someone, and for a while it seemed like that was enough to keep Izou from thinking he was worth troubling with. Then as with anything Marco considered good in his life, Thatch decided to get involved. The chef apprentice hadn’t lasted long before giving in and letting Izou do whatever he wanted, and they ended up joining forces against Marco. It started with his clothes. Even Thatch was suddenly wearing a nice, white button up, but Marco had taken to shredding whatever they snuck into his room with his talons and dropping it on Izou’s bed. Then they stole his clothes to give him no other option, so he had to wander around in his Phoenix form. Eventually they gave in and returned his normal clothes, washed and free of the smell they’d been building up, which Marco absolutely considered a win. He hated doing laundry.

The larger issue became about his hair. Izou wanted to cut and style it, attempt to tame the youthful blond curls he sported, and had it just been Izou, there probably wouldn’t have been an issue. He’d give Marco a few annoyed glares but move on, but as always Thatch loved to complicate things. After seeing the two of them talking - scheming - Marco had to admit he wasn’t too surprised when he woke up the next morning, loose curls on his pillow and the sides and back of his head shaved.

He was incredibly angry, but he wasn’t surprised.

When he found them, they were eating breakfast in the galley, and Marco dropped the handful of cut hair on top of Thatch’s head, making sure some of it landed directly in his food. Very slowly, Thatch turned around, shoulders stiff and prepared to react if necessary. When he caught sight of Marco’s new hairstyle he was torn between laughing and trembling from cold steel in his eyes.

Thatch quickly cleared his throat and hid his smile behind his hand. “Morning, Marco.”

“Thatch.” Marco’s eyes slid over to Izou who had the decency to try and avoid eye contact. “Izou. Either of you got something you wanna say, yoi?”

“Nice haircut?” Thatch offered, shouting when Marco smacked him on the head.

“I’m sorry I allowed Thatch to talk me into it?” tried Izou.

“Hey!” Thatch interjected.

“Once it grows back out, I’ll fix it into whatever you want.” The offer was met with a glare, and Izou hastily raised his hands in defence. “No hidden intentions, I swear.”

Marco was silent for a moment then let out a frustrated sigh. “It won’t grow back.”

Thatch and Izou both looked at him in confusion.

He clarified, “My hair doesn’t grow.”

They blinked, and Thatch cautiously asked, “Why not?”

Marco rolled his eyes. “Because, yoi,” he said mockingly slow, “hair is made of dead skin cells. My healing means no dead skin cells. No dead skin cells means no hair.”

“Please stop saying dead skin cells,” Thatch begged, having already abandoned his meal after Marco dropped hair into it. “So your hair’s stuck like that? Forever?” The question was innocent enough, but even the undercurrent of guilt couldn’t hide that part of him was still laughing at the situation.

Instead of answering, Marco felt within his rights to grab Thatch by the back of his shirt and forcefully drag him outside for a refreshing swim in the ocean. The real revenge, however, would occur later that night when Marco convinced Izou to help him give Thatch a haircut of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignore the probably false science of hair growth used.
> 
> I think the other way I could've gone would be his hair grows but since the skin cells don't die, he feels pain everytime it's cut. That would suck.


End file.
